


Cliche Meetings

by lollzie



Series: The Adventures and Misdemeanors of the Roscoe 'Tribe' [3]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, looking back, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollzie/pseuds/lollzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Lindsey and Joe first met, and all the possible ways they could have met too</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cliche Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This is much fluffier oneshot than the previous one and I ended up writing it pretty soon after Lindsey's arrival to Hollyoaks. I never had the intention of publishing it, but when I started this 'project' I couldn't help but think what the hell. I've never written in this style before (apart from the occasional drabbles that never see the light of day) and I'd love some feedback on it, to see if people think I should do more things in a similar manner.

Whenever people ask how they met, they'll have already have decided for themselves how it went down. It's something that people do, fill in the blanks before they've been given the information. But he's a mechanic and she's a doctor, there's enough cliché ways to meet each other to fill a book.

Some see them and picture a stormy night. Her car would have broken down by the side of the road, though too far away for her to make her way back home. She would make the call, comforted by the warm tone on the other end of the line.   
He would arrive in no time whatsoever, having raced from the garage to help out, due to his more than helpful nature. That paired with the stormy weather would make it seem more like a rescue than just the usual pick-up. These people see the pair of them flirting in the tow truck, her broken down car (usually a rusty vintage thing) being wheeled along behind them.   
They would have continued flirting in the garage, with one of his brothers gently ribbing him in front of her, trying to embarrass him in front of the pretty girl, but she would smile and think it was cute, the way his cheeks slightly coloured at the teasing.  
The next day, when she would go to pick her car up, they'd start flirting again. But this time it would be different. They'd be the only two present, so there would be no chance of interruptions, electricity practically sizzling between them and then he'd ask her out for a drink. She'd say yes and then rest, they say is history. 

Others think it's her work-place that was the initial meeting point. He'd have injured himself at the garage and would have needed medical attention, maybe it was a concussion, maybe not, but it'd definitely be something that would need him to stay overnight at the hospital. She'd be the one to check on him every couple of hours, make sure he's still breathing and all.   
She'd find his confusion and bleariness cute when he was woken up each time, and they'd end up talking for five minutes at a time before she was dragged away for another task, always turning back to smile sweetly as she was pulled from the ward, him meeting her eyes every time.   
The next morning, as he's being discharged, he'd make his way over to her, sitting by the desk, her eyes heavy as she's had a long shift and he'd thank her for everything. He'd brush past her, and she'd think nothing of it, merely wishing she could have known him a bit better.   
When she'd be at home, changing into comfier clothes, she'd feel the folded paper in her pockets. Her eyes would widen as she realised that it was his number and she would spend the next ten minutes trying to decide whether she should ever call him.   
Her hands would tremble as she would dial the number on the phone, slowly though, she wouldn't want to make a mistake. The phone would ring five or six times, long enough for her to think it was a cruel joke and the number was never his.   
Eventually though, he'd pick up, “Hello, Joe Roscoe speaking.” His voice wouldn't sound different to the random passer-by, but she'd be able to pick up on the nervousness. After all, she'd be feeling it too. In that moment, she would know it was the best decision to dial the number on the scrap of paper she found in her pocket.  
“Hi, it's Lindsey Butterfield. If I'm not mistaken, you put your number into my pocket after you spent last night at the hospital. I was wondering, would you like to go for a drink sometime?”  
And the rest, they say is history. 

A minority of people don't imagine that their respective work places had anything to do with their meeting. They have a sort of familiarity in everyday life with each other that gives the impression that they've been together for many years. These people see them as high school sweethearts.   
Spending their first few years dodging around each, cheeks flushing as their eyes met across the classroom, the attraction obvious to see.   
They wouldn't start dating till the second half of their high school careers, but it would be different than any other relationship they had previously had and miles different to their friends relationships also.   
Their love would be passionate and fiery (as many young relationships are) but instead of fizzling out, theirs would flourish. Sure they'd argue, but they'd work around it. Lindsey would come down from university to visit whenever possible and get work in the local hospital once she had finished with her studying.   
They would share everything with each other, and because of their brutal honesty with one another, they would grow only grow as a couple, both willing to change and adapt for the other.   
They have always been the other's other half, completing each other in ways that other couples could only wish for. When he proposes in their mid-twenties (years after they first got together) the only sane thing she could do was say yes. They had already fought expectations, and knew they were meant to be together forever.   
And the rest they say is history. 

The real way they meet is much less interesting but probably just as cliché. They both reached for last tin of tomatoes in their local supermarket, hands brushing lightly. She had told him he could have it, after all she was still only a student, what was another night of Chinese really going to do?  
He'd refuse point blank, placing it in her small shopping basket.   
“May stop mum from cooking,” he had grinned, making her lightly giggle. They had made small talk, him telling her about the constant home cooking that was often unwanted, whilst she told him she'd do anything for a home cooked meal, however awful. Takeaways were becoming incredibly repetitive.   
“I'll make you something,” She was astounded, unsure of what to make of the offer. “My mum may not be winning masterchef any time soon but I could help whip something up.”   
It was stupid, he could be anyone, why would he think she would let him in to her flat. But the offer was a good one and although it was mid-afternoon she was tired and somewhat lazy after her lecture that morning.   
What the hell she had thought. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and her flatmates would all be in anyway so what was the harm. She had nodded, typing her number into his phone whilst rattling off her address.   
“Be round at six,” she had murmured into his ear, skin tingling as their hands touched.   
And the rest they say is history.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.   
> The next chapter should be updated on Wednesday and is a lot darker and a lot longer than previous oneshots. Remember if anyone has any ideas, simply review or pm me. So far the feedback I've been getting has been absolutely lovely and I want to thank everyone who has taken time out of their day to review, it means a lot.   
> Next Chapter – Means to an End – Sometimes, despite how much medicine you're given, how much time you spend in hospital, the illness is still stronger. Is still the one to win. Ziggy learns this first hand when he's diagnosed with the very thing that killed his dad.


End file.
